He’s nowhere, he’s running, he’s walking, he’s jogging, he’s crying, he’s celebrating, he’s shouting.
What is he doing? Where is he?
When was the last time you felt as pointless as him?
He’s out; it’s a jungle, it’s fairytale or a nightmare. Where is it heading?
Each joy ends up gloomy. Each misery ends up upbeat.
Who to judge, how to judge. Are they his friends or foes? He’s losing but winning and winning but losing. Will he drown or swim it off? Is this peace or is this war?
A conjecture, it’ll be back. But is it supposed to be?
Is he strong or vulnerable? Or maybe both.
Maybe, the door’s closed but the window’s open.
Is the dilemma worth waiting or it’s really the time? Which side will it go, head or tails?
It’s the misery, he can’t solve. Where will he go when there’s a mirage everywhere?
It didn’t come, it’s needed. Maybe the flower dropped its last petal or maybe someone else plucked the flower, maybe it was never supposed to bloom. Was it all not worth it? Maybe he can’t go on without the flower? Or maybe he will.
Shall he water other flowers, are those flowers willing to bloom for him, shall he nurture the noteworthy or shall he stop sowing the flowers as of whole?
Maybe, the flowers are venomous. Maybe, beautiful isn’t for him.
Maybe, it’s the dark he’s meant for.
It’s his fight against the ruins, he’ll walk it off. It’s the end but is it worthy to proclaim it? He will rebuild, he will be back.
With or without flowers, it’s time!
Is it fate? Is it a punishment? Is it a surprise? Is it a prize?
Maybe it’s meant to be.